


Meet the Father

by Penkindisbestspecibus



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penkindisbestspecibus/pseuds/Penkindisbestspecibus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat's about to meet Dad Egbert for the first time, and John's nervous. He has no reason to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet the Father

**Author's Note:**

  * For [childishPoultrylord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/childishPoultrylord/gifts).



> Thank you both Rockpapertheodore and Beep-beep-meow on Tumblr for the prompt/s!
> 
> This also doubled as second person POV practice. It was originally in third person but I kept slipping into second person so I decided to hell with it, and edited it. If there's any remainders of third person, please let me know.

“John, stop fussing.” Despite your words, your slightly taller boyfriend continued to adjust your collar. “Look, I just want this to be perfect, okay? I mean, you're perfect, and everything, but it's my Dad, and, what if he doesn't like you?” He bites his lip with his adorable buckteeth and you just let out a tired sigh. He had been like this for the past hour or so, fidgeting and fussing with just about everything, but now that you were on the doorstep of his home, where his father was waiting for the both of you with a traditional home cooked dinner, he had gone into overdrive. “John, it will be fine.” Your attempt to placate you boyfriend falls on deaf ears. You run a hand through your dark hair, and level John with a small glare. “Just calm down already.”

 

Before John could retort that he couldn't calm down because of some stupid reason, you pressed the doorbell. He immediately stopped fussing, to stand ramrod straight next to you. Stupid idiot. The door swings open gently, and you're immediately assaulted by the aroma of pipe tobacco. 'Dad' Egbert was white. Not in skin colour (he was, kind of; more so than John who was tanned from exposure), but just in clothing. So... incredibly white. What kind of detergent did he use to get clothes so pure and clean? From his fedora, down to his slacks, it was almost clinically white. The only other colour seemed to be the black of his tie, and on his fedora. He had an expression that screamed 'fatherly', and practically oozed a parental aura. If you had to guess, the reason he was only ever known as 'Dad' Egbert (or Mr. Egbert) was because his entire existence seemed to be for one thing and one thing alone – being a father.

 

“Ah. You must be Karkat. John has told me a lot about you.” He held out his hand, rough and large, and you clasp it in a firm handshake. “It's a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Your voice is polite, and John looks awkwardly nervous next to you. God damn it, is he still fidgeting? “The pleasure is all mine, Karkat. Please, call me 'Dad'.” He turned around and disappeared into the house silently, almost like a ghost, leaving the two of to yourselves. “See? So far so good, Egderp.” John fidgeted with his collar slightly.

“But... something can still go wrong and then he'd hate you forever, and forbid me from seeing you and,” You decide the best way to shut your boyfriend up is to grab him by the lapels, and all but slam your lips together. After about ten seconds of passionate kissing, you decide he's not going to keep worrying for at least a few minutes and let him go. “Shut up John, it's going to be _fine._ ”

 

Dinner was a much larger affair than you were used to, but from what John had told you, this was standard fare for the Egbert household. A large, delicious looking roast on a bed of vegetables, a side of mashed potatoes, gravy, and a bowl of salad. “So, Karkat, where are you from?” You swallow your mouthful of potato. It's creamy and soft, and jesus, where did this guy learn to cook? “My mother came from Pakistan, and my Dad's from Thailand.” Dad only nods conversationally, chewing a piece of meat.

“John tells me your aiming to be a Director?” You take a small sip of your juice, nodding slightly. “That's correct, si-... Dad.” It felt a little weird calling him 'Dad', seeing as he was not actually your father (yet), but the man seemed pleased enough at it. “What kind of films would you like to direct?” Dad smiled in that ridiculously fatherly way he seemed to possess. If being Fatherly was an art form, then Dad Egbert was more then a mere artist. “To be honest,” You begin, carefully slicing a piece of meat, “I'd very much like to direct romantic comedies.” After you chew the slice of meat for a few seconds and swallow, you decide now is a good time to compliment his cooking. “This dinner is very delicious.”

 

“Thank you. I made it myself.” He gives you a warm smile. John was still nervous, but he didn't seem _as_ nervous as he was before - _finally_. “So, how did you two meet?”

“Well, um, it was in French class, I think, is when we first met...” John glances at you, a small blush dusting his cheeks. Fuck, the asshole's adorable sometimes. “Wasn't it in Music class? You were playing the piano, and I was just sitting there listening.” You put your hand over John's, restraining the snicker that threatens to let itself loose when he turns completely red, up to the tips of his ears. Fucking. Adorable. Dad only chuckles lightly, and the rest of dinner proceeds relatively uneventful, the silence broken only by the soft clinging of cutlery and the occasional question and answer.

 

“Thank you, Dad. That was absolutely delicious.” The pipe-smoking man only chuckled lightly again, puffing gently. “It was nothing. Are you ready for dessert, Karkat?” John makes a face, and from what he's told you, dessert can mean only one thing. Cake. You honestly don't understand John's aversion to the baked confectionery, but you suppose if you had to eat cake as much as he did in his youth, you'd probably hate it too. As it is, Cake remains delicious. “That sounds great, Dad.” Calling him 'Dad' still feels weird, but his eyes light up each time you do, so at the very least it can't be a bad thing. He disappears into the kitchen, and John lets an a nearly inaudible groan. “Why does it have to be cake...” He mutters, and this time you do snicker at his expense.

“Shut up John, cake's are delicious.” John pokes his tongue out at you, and you snort into your glass of juice. Mmm, tropical juice.

 

Dad returns with the largest cake you have ever seen that wasn't at a wedding. It's two tiers of creamy delicious frosting, and the words 'WELCOME TO THE FAMILY' are spelled out with marzipan letters. “Would you like to cut the cake, Karkat?” He smiles at you with that unrestrainedly fatherly smile of his, and John almost chokes on his juice.

 

Yeah. This went well.


End file.
